


Olivia's Birthday

by gray_zelle



Series: Love And Squalezkaban: Collection #1 [5]
Category: A Series Of Unfortunate Events (Netflix)
Genre: (esme also says fuck), F/F, gray-zelle squalezkaban, let jacquelyn say FUCK, look at these absolute dumbasses, squaleszkaban, squalezkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22622803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_zelle/pseuds/gray_zelle
Summary: Jacquelyn and Esme kind of struggle to find Olivia the perfect book, or even *a* book, for her birthday present.
Relationships: Jacquelyn Scieszka/Esmé Squalor, Olivia Caliban/Esmé Squalor, Olivia Caliban/Jacquelyn Scieszka, Olivia Caliban/Jacquelyn Scieszka/Esmé Squalor
Series: Love And Squalezkaban: Collection #1 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592197
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Late Night Book Box Opening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LemonsandRosemary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonsandRosemary/gifts), [msariadneoliver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msariadneoliver/gifts), [kitsnicketts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsnicketts/gifts).



> heads up:  
> \- mild coarse language (let Jacquelyn say fuck!!!)  
> \- some mild hinted body horror in one part (will add an additional heads up)  
> \- both Jacquelyn and Esme in short pyjamas this time  
> \- violence against eggs
> 
> also!!: this was *meant* to be published on Jan 26 (Sara Rue's birthday) but i never mention an actual date or season so this can be whenever in time; i'm kinda chill abt character birthdays when i Cannot Decide when their birthday should be so I could've saved this for later but considering questions raised in previous stories and the ending you'll be glad I published it now!!
> 
> this is also dedicated to olivia-caliban and olivia-caliban-coulson on tumblr!!

Jacquelyn was kept up by her latest mission for hours. Well, her alarm clock said 23:07, but it felt like at  _ least  _ 3:05. No matter what she tried to think of, or what new position she took, or how aggressively she cuddled Olivia, she couldn’t rest. She  _ shouldn’t _ , she thought. Not with the mission’s deadline this close. 

Loosening herself from Olivia’s tight grip, she decided, fuck it, and leaned over Olivia to wake Esmé. 

“ _ What _ -” 

She went to bite when Jacquelyn shushed her, yet let her ease her up, then eventually out of their bed. Though Jacquelyn felt bad for dragging her from bed this late at night, she figured Esmé would see reason, even want to help. That or Jacquelyn would make her.

They made it to the right display room; Jacquelyn flicked the bottom light switch, turning on the dimmer lights for now. She turned to find Esmé frowning; her arms folded, and eyes too bleary for 23:11.

“This better be good,” she snapped. “Or I’m going back to bed.” 

It wasn’t exactly Esmé’s idea of good, or fun, so Jacquelyn hesitated, before sweeping a hand toward the boxes on the floor.

Esmé turned,  _ short  _ silk nightdress swishing. 

“Babe-” 

“Have fun. I’ve already told you, I’m  _ not  _ getting involved in your stupid Volunteer stuff, just because of… You know.” 

Jacquelyn winced while grasping Esmé’s hand. “I know. This is for Olivia, if you’d let me explain.” 

Esmé gave an “ _ Oh _ ,” mouth slipping open. She said nothing more, then sat with Jacquelyn on the display room floor, ready to assist. She helped open the first box, with  _ A-F  _ sharpied on the side in Olivia’s handwriting.

Clearly Esmé didn’t mind snooping through people’s things. For now, Jacquelyn was fine with that.

“Are you ready?” 

“What are we doing with these books? Anything interesting?” 

Jacquelyn retrieved the list she’d stuffed in the pocket of her boxers. Esmé watched her unfold it, and she frowned again, before realising the list was full of books. 

“We’re seeing which books Olivia doesn’t own in this list. The ones we don’t find here will become contenders for her birthday present.” 

“Is that list  _ alphabetical _ ?” 

“I have a lot of time on my hands at work.” 

Or Jacquelyn made time. She had to admit - when it came to her girlfriends, Mr Poe’s tasks, and even VFD business, came off second-best.

She and Esmé began looking. Jacquelyn laid the list on the floor, so they could both check it as they pulled out books.

There were more books in this box than Jacquelyn expected. To be fair, she hadn’t seen all of Olivia’s collection since they’d moved into the Penthouse with Esmé. That, and she’d had a tonne of her childhood books delivered when her… Aunt?, came to the City one day. (Jacquelyn and Esmé didn’t meet her.) 

So they searched. And Jacquelyn  _ hoped  _ at least two, no, three, of the listed books weren’t here. Sweat, blood and tears - okay, maybe not the latter two, but definitely sweat when Mr Poe broke the thermostat - had gone into this list. She’d hate this one to go to waste, too.

“Here’s one,” Esmé said amidst a yawn. She held up  _ Passenger To Frankfurt  _ by Agatha Christie. Jacquelyn crossed it off the list. “And this is only the first box.” 

“One of four,” Jacquelyn reminded her, making her groan. “So, quick. Olivia’s birthday’s in three days.” 

“I  _ know _ .” 

She sounded offended. Jacquelyn gained the feeling she was drawing further into herself. She didn’t ask why - it wasn’t wise to open the box Esmé hid her deepest feelings in, this late at night, in the middle of something. Not when this moment, this mission, was about Olivia.

Thus Jacquelyn kept searching. She smiled to herself when she uncovered Olivia’s copy of  _ Little Women  _ \- held together by cloth tape that matched the cover. She carefully opened it, finding young Olivia’s handwriting on a blank page.

“One of Olivia’s favourite books,” she said to Esmé, who looked up. Esmé ran a hand over the cover, managing a smile.

“Very sweet. Should we get her a new one, though?”

“I think this is the first book she ever owned, so I can see why she’s kept it.” 

“I can’t- Oh, fuck,” Esmé sighed, uncovering  _ The Night Of The Wolf  _ by Constance Fecher. It was the last in the  _ A-F _ box. “I have a feeling we won’t succeed here, darling.” 

Jacquelyn begged to differ - at least,  _ hoped  _ she could.

Time passed while they continued; the excitement of having a mission kept Jacquelyn wide awake. They crossed four more books off the list in  _ G-M _ , which, yes, was a little concerning. 

The books began to stack up, higher and higher, on the display room floor. Even with Jacquelyn’s mission getting harder right in front of her, she couldn’t help but find the stacks of books enchanting. And let them remind her of Olivia. 

There were books smaller than her hand, books that covered her lap, books in between somewhat. Hardcovers, softcovers,  _ The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn  _ lacked a cover; some books were bound with cloth tape, its colour matching the cover’s. Some books were old, some were new, some were probably borrowed, and  _ The Railway Children  _ was blue.

The age of pages varied from a crisp white to coffee-brown, and changed the way they smelled, too. Yet all of them held a hint of Olivia’s favourite perfume; Jacquelyn would one day read the bottle for the exact fragrance, but it reminded her of the sun.

Jacquelyn crossed out  _ A Sunset Touch  _ by Alex Stuart the  _ second  _ they opened  _ O-T.  _ She felt her apprehension spike. Esmé, on the other hand, had been getting annoyed for the past fifteen minutes.

“Why  _ does  _ Olivia keep so many books? I mean, she’s a librarian. Don’t libraries cancel out the need for owning books?” 

“Kind of, but, Olivia likes to keep books. I guess librarians like to have your their little library at home, to feel more like a librarian. If that makes sense. You can do things like that when you have an interesting job.”

The look on Esmé’s face said she begged to differ. But she agreed she and Jacquelyn had barley exciting jobs, compared to their girlfriend - well, when Esmé didn’t count all the drama she got into from 9-5. 

A minute or so later, Esmé added, “This has nothing to do with VFD, does it?” 

“Olivia’s been a librarian for… twelve times longer than she’s been in VFD.” 

(Yes, Jacquelyn did the maths.)

Thus, Olivia had scratched all but six books off her list. 

Jacquelyn would have to step up her game. Work harder. Make sure that this time, her mission wouldn’t become another scrunched up, maybe ripped up, book list. 

It of course wasn’t a  _ bad  _ thing that the search had gone slightly downhill. No, if anything, Jacquelyn thought it a step in the right direction - she now knew she had a solid grasp on the books Olivia would read and own. Too solid.

This mission had gotten harder, but Jacquelyn knew that, in a way, difficulty was part of the fun.

Esmé, clearly not revelling in the mission’s feeling, yawned for longer than before. “So that’s it? We’re down to six books, and we’ll buy those tomorrow?”

“Well, we have to re-box Olivia’s library first. In alphabetical order, so Olivia doesn’t notice.” 

After lifting her slackened jaw, Esmé got up, dusted off her nightdress, and wearily sautered out. 

Heaving a sigh, Jacquelyn let her go. There wasn’t  _ that  _ many-

She finally took in the mass of books before her. And wanted Esmé back immediately.


	2. The Mission Continues Over Food

The next morning, Jacquelyn’s waking thought said that two days remained until her deadline. The realisation hit her hard, shaking her awake-

“Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Olivia murmured, playing with her hair. “It’s okay. You’re not late; you’re early, actually.”

Early. Jacquelyn calmed herself as she woke further, face half buried in her pillow. To keep Olivia unsuspicious. Olivia’s fingers guided her chin from the pillow, and she kissed her temple, her lips so deliciously  _ soft _ ; then she wrapped her arms around her, settling down as the big spoon.

Jacquelyn heaved a sigh of content. 

“Good morning to you, too,” Olivia teased. Her girlfriend could hear the smile on her lips.

“Morning.” 

Jacquelyn had no idea what time she’d climbed back into bed. Packing up Olivia’s books had taken short of, hmm, forever, and she was tempted to let Esmé know. But she needed Esmé’s help, thus would keep her mouth shut for once.

The main thing was, she’d alphabetised the books, and Olivia would be none the wiser. Though Jacquelyn was sure her books being disturbed would be a thing Olivia just  _ knew  _ about.

Olivia and Jacquelyn eventually got up, to prep for work - the Penthouse telephones ringing diverted Olivia to the main living room.

Esmé was in the kitchen, wearing just a silk bathrobe hard on the eyes, her hair blow-dried. Upon seeing Jacquelyn (and her eyebags), her own eyes widened, and she turned to fiddle with the toaster.

Over the jug at work, she asked, “So what do we do now? Buy the books?” 

Jacquelyn shushed her, taking the coffee jar from the pantry. Then, she added, “It doesn’t get any simpler than that.” At the jug pinging, she managed to pull the components for a liquid slap in the face together. 

“Well, I suppose you’re right. Unless, of course, something happens; if we get stuck at work, or we’re blocked off from that bookshop - the one in the Stationery District, yes? - or the bookshop burns down. Or my office burns down. Or yours. Mine’s more likely to go up in flames, depending on the day.” 

“I thought we discussed this, babe.” 

“We did, but, sometimes it’s  _ hard _ , darling.”

Leaning on the kitchen bench, Jacquelyn masked her sigh with another sip of her coffee. If she had to drink coffee - she liked it for a shake-up, or in this case, a wake-up - it had to be sweet. This needed more sugar.

Now the jug had stopped, and Esmé had too, she could hear part of Olivia’s phone conversation. She was reassuring someone that things were fine, even though she didn’t  _ entirely  _ sound fine herself. Telling someone she would have a good birthday, thanking them, Esmé started talking and drowned Olivia out.

“I can take lunch whenever, today, if that makes things easier. You want me to come and buy the books with you, right?”

“I need you for  _ all  _ this mission, baby.” 

Esmé stopped, frowning again, but gently. “You’re calling this a mission?” 

“D’you have a problem with that?” 

Now Esmé smiled, bemused. “Come here, you silly little Volunteer. I haven’t kissed you this morning.” 

Jacquelyn put her cup down and strolled over, letting Esmé kiss her cheek. Her bathrobe just about blinded her (and it wasn’t tied up properly).

Then Olivia arrived in the kitchen, seeming dismayed, though, being Olivia, looked to be optimistic. She kissed Esmé good morning, ruffling Jacquelyn’s hair, before making herself some toast. 

“I’m sorry to start your days with bad news, sweethearts, but it’s gonna be just us for my birthday. None of my family can make it, which is a little disappointing because I’d  _ love  _ you to meet them. But we’ll meet up soon.” 

Esmé muttered something about in-laws, and Jacquelyn thought it good she and Olivia didn’t hear it. 

“Oh, and I’ll be staying back late this afternoon - we’re discussing Ginny’s maternity leave. But I’m still taking lunch, so I don’t yell at a customer again.”

Jacquelyn and Esmé ignored her wince, sharing a glance. Their mission gained a starting time.

At 12:30, Jacquelyn parked the Chevelle (1971 Chevrolet Chevelle, if you were wondering) a street down from the beginning of the Stationery District. She and Esmé got out, Esmé wearing large, dark sunglasses like she thought herself slick. Like the next James Bond. 

“Babe, Olivia saw your pantsuit for today.” 

“I know I’m not Volunteer material,” she grumbled, following Jacquelyn down the street. “We should’ve grabbed lunch first-  _ I  _ might yell at a customer if I’m not careful.” 

“Mission first. Then lunch. That’s what we discussed, so, don’t yell at anyone.” 

Esmé grumbled something else while Jacquelyn held open the doors to the bookstore. 

Soon Jacquelyn was groaning into her sandwich as she assessed her list again. Esmé, eating bacon and eggs (breakfast food for lunch was In) wasn’t focused on her, but grimacing at a cafegoer’s shoes. 

Their search at the bookstore turned up dead. Completely dead. Now, Jacquelyn was beginning to wonder two things: just  _ how  _ her mission had hurtled this further downhill, and how she and Esmé were meant to climb out of the hole they’d been driven into. 

At her next groan, Esmé looked up. “I think Olivia should learn to watch TV with me, or find a hobby we can financially support her in. Crafts, or something- No, something In.” 

She stabbed her egg, the yolk bursting out and oozing over her plate, resembling Jacquelyn’s last hopes. Had she been in a better mood, she would’ve tried a cannibalism joke. 

“I mean, does it  _ have  _ to be a book? Or books? We gave her that pretty notebook set at Hanukkah.” Esmé wrinkled her nose when some Outly-dressed cafegoers passed their table. “Does she… I don’t know... Knit?” 

“And crochets.” 

Esmé dropped her fork, heads turning at the clang. “You- I- That was a joke, but… You’re  _ serious _ ?” 

“Babe, all those knitted blankets we had in the old apartment, before we moved into the Penthouse - Olivia knitted those herself. But-” Jacquelyn sighed, looking to her list, and her finished plate. “I like giving her books.” 

She still remembered the first book she gave Olivia. One she’d read snippets of before, being sapphic, but hadn’t owned it in, as she put it, “as close of an entirety as you can get”. 

She had handed her  _ The Works Of Sappho  _ on one date, a late night walk in the park, after pizza at Little Italy’s best place.

On a blank page, she’d written,  _ I love you, Olivia Caliban. I love you more than I can put into words. I’d need to write more than a book series to tell you. _

It was the night they kissed, under the stars and City lights, no one in the universe watching, even existing. 

It was the night Jacqueyn became her girlfriend. 

So it was hard not to love giving Olivia books.

“Jacquelyn?” 

Esmé’s fork hitting her plate brought her back; she found her frowning slightly. Then Esmé took the list from her, eyeing it closely.

“ _ If  _ you’re so eager to get Olivia a book, why don’t you just ask her what book she-”

“No.” Nope. Never. Just- No. It had to be a surprise.

“Look, I get that you Volunteers are all about secrets and mystery and whatever, but-  _ Jacquelyn _ ?!” 

Her first instinct said to slide off her chair, and hide beneath the table; instead, she snatched the list from Esmé, and stuffed it down her blouse and into her bra.

Just as Olivia noticed them. 

She gave them a warm smile, then dragged a stray chair to their table. And Jacquelyn immediately felt  _ horrible _ . (What kind of girlfriends were she and Esmé, leaving Olivia out?)

“I went and checked out that new In teashop, Esmé; the sandwich they gave me was  _ tiny,  _ and since you know I’m no little eater I wanted some muffins from here.” 

Staying cool was usually easy for Jacquelyn. Today? Nope. “But, uh, not as good as yours, babe.” 

“Too soon,” Esmé muttered. 

Olivia thanked a waitress who brought two savoury muffins, each the diameter of a huge round mug, to her seat. She munched on one, gaining a strange look in her eye, as the three failed to converse for once.

Jacquelyn had to admit, it was hard keeping things secret from Olivia. She had a way of knowing, or at least, figured out things quickly. Or subtly made it known that she was catching on, or would eventually find out. It was like she had a sixth sense. Yes, it made Jacquelyn wonder if she was somewhat psychic. 

Thus Olilvia eyed her girlfriends with the air that she knew. 

Jacquelyn found it hard not to crack. 

Completely nonchalant about it, Esmé asked, “Which book do you want for your birthday, Olivia darling?” 

Now Jacquelyn wanted to hide more than ever. 

She raised an eyebrow at Esmé, Esmé raising one back, making Olivia frown. Her girlfriends stopped it immediately. 

Olivia’s reply was shy, if that made sense. “Well… this  _ may  _ sound like a strange book to you, and I don’t know how much-”

“Darling, money is not a problem,” Esmé assured her, and to Jacquelyn that was a problem in itself. 

Olivia, probably thinking the same thing, hesitated.. “How much it will take to find. It’s called  _ Exploring The Psychic World, _ by Fred Archer, published in 1968.” 

That was  _ not  _ on Jacquelyn’s list - it wouldn’t’ve been, by a mile and a half. It didn’t even sound close to Olivia’s taste. Most, if not all, of the stories in her library (boxes) had been adventure stories, or romance, or the Classics. 

But if that was what Olivia wanted, then… Yep. Okay. Sure.

“It might be in the dollar bin at the Stationery District bookstore-  _ not  _ the one across the City. Ask for Paige, she’ll gladly help you. But I doubt it would be at The Bazaar. I wouldn’t look there.” 

Maybe she was recovering from her shyness, over asking for something, but the way Olivia shifted was… strange. 

“ _ Exploring The Psychic World _ ,” Jacquelyn said, writing it down on a napkin. “We’ll see what we can do.” 


	3. Things Get Bazaar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> note:  
> \- slight potential human body horror in this part, about jars and things so just a reminder on that one  
> \- also Olivia being mysteriously badass and Jacquelyn protecting Esmé (!!!!!)

At 17:17, they left the bookstore, having had no luck  _ again _ . Paige and the staff said to pass their birthday wishes onto Olivia, lifting Jacquelyn’s spirits slightly. But not helping her mission one bit. 

So, stretching, Jacquelyn looked around the Stationery District’s shops. (The VFD insignia was fading on one shop’s sign.) 

No other bookstore stood here, and Olivia allegedly had “problems” with the one way across the City, and while she was incredibly desperate Jacquelyn wouldn’t be unwrapping any of that. Just like, at this rate, Olivia wouldn’t be unwrapping anything when the deadline came. Meaning mission failed. Again.

She heaved a sigh. Esmé - who surprisingly hadn’t wandered off and returned laden with shopping bags - stood close to her, wearing those sunglasses again. As she always did in the Stationery District. She was either wanting to leave this-not-Out-but-still-Out place (if you know what I mean), or pondering something. It was hard to tell. 

“What about that Bazaar place, Jacquelyn?” 

“No. That sounds like a bad idea.” 

Esmé frowned. “Well, Olivia didn’t tell us ‘Don’t go in there’; she said, and I quote, and Sylvie would’ve noted, ‘I wouldn’t look there’. Completely different.” 

“Similar meaning. And similar enough for me.” 

Esmé groaned. Jacquelyn watched the afternoon sun bounce off her rings as she fiddled with them, more or less sulking. Then she simply began making for the end of the District. Jacquelyn had never been down there, and she doubted Esmé had any idea where she was going.

She knew Esmé had trapped her. To keep her helping on her mission, Jacquelyn followed, bottling up her annoyance.

What ended the District was a crack in the wall - well, a shop, but one that barely existed. It had no windows, only a door with a head-high glass pane, said glass frosted and blocking the view.  _ The Bazaar  _ was painted on a faded sign. Jacquelyn, who had perfect vision according to both licensed and currently unlicensed optometrists, could barely read it.

“Esmé?” 

“What?” 

“I am 99.9 percent sure Olivia’s ‘I wouldn’t look there’ meant ‘Don’t go in there’.” 

“Yes,  _ but _ …” Esmé sighed, and fiddled with her rings again. There could’ve been a sombre expression behind her sunglasses.

“What is it, babe?” 

“I think we should try. Because I want-”

“Esmé, this isn’t about you.” 

“I fucking  _ know _ ,” Esmé snapped, taking her back. She tore off her sunglasses, letting Jacuqelyn see, letting her in. “I know this is about Olivia, alright? I want to give her the perfect present, too, if you weren’t aware; and if I can’t do that, I’ll gouge someone’s eyes out. Listen, Jacquelyn- this is the first birthday I’m celebrating with you both, and let me tell you now, I was  _ never  _ good with Jerome’s birthday, so- I want to turn that around. To make things right. I want to make both my girlfriends happy, whatever it takes, so if I have to go in…  _ that _ , then-” 

Esmé shut herself up. She’d let Jacquelyn in for a fleeting moment, and then that was- oh, now she was entering the fucking shop. 

Jacquelyn wouldn’t let her do this alone. 

The place was pitch black, for a few seconds - Jacuqleyn stepped in front of Esmé, subsequently activating a sensor. The light that came was dim, either way. It lit the silhouettes of cupboards, and shelves, and bounced off glass jars here and there. 

Jacquelyn gripped the knife in her pocket.

She dared to step forward, and when something fell, Esmé clawed her nails into her arm. In barely a whisper, she asked Esmé if they could leave, but her hair swishing to refuse only pissed Jacquelyn off.

So Jacquelyn advanced, further this time. Esmé at least followed. They came to the outline of a low table, on which sat several bowls, filled with dull stones. The glass definitely belonged to jars lining the wall’s shelves - and if they stood there long enough, and peered inside them, their contents looked like they’d been alive once.

“Perhaps no one’s here,” Esmé murmured halfway down Jacquelyn’s ear. 

“Live ones!” 

More lights came on. Esmé coyly hid behind Jacquelyn, and from a mirror’s reflection Jacquelyn could see her blanching at the jar shelves. (Their contents? Body parts. She couldn’t tell what kind. Hopefully not human ones.)

From the darkness emerged an old lady so wrinkled, Jacquelyn was glad Esmé couldn’t see her. Her eyes could’ve been beads, or buttons. They didn’t stare, but  _ jabbed _ , right into Jacquelyn’s soul.

“What can I do you for?” 

“...Isn’t it ‘Do for you’ in America?” 

Jacquelyn ignored Esmé and tried to be courteous. “We’re looking for a rare book; apparently we might find it here.” 

Was the old lady smiling or frowning? “I’ve plenty a book. Which one?” 

“ _ Exploring The Psychic World,  _ by Fred Archer.” 

“Let me have a look.” 

She shuffled to a bookcase where each book was stacked spine down - like what the result of bricklaying becoming In would look like. Esmé now half leaned on Jacquelyn’s shoulderblade, staring right at a large, stuffed bullfrog.

“Bring that home and Olivia will be absolutely distraught.” 

“When is Kit’s birthday again?” 

“Kit will knock you-” 

“Darling, talk to the… um… her.” 

The old lady now held a tray, stacked with several books and jars. Jacquelyn, holding her pocketed knife, led Esmé up the aisle to her.

None of the books were  _ Exploring The Psychic World _ . Looking this old lady in the eye was hard; Jacquelyn tried regardless.

“The book we want isn’t here.” 

“Oh, I see. I’ll try again.” 

Esmé lifted Jacquelyn’s wrist, trying to check her watch in the dim light. Then she huffed. They now stood next to a bowl holding pouches of shiny, engraved stones- Esmé reached out, to touch, but Jacquelyn swatted her hand. At least she didn’t react, perhaps willing to see reason this time.

The old lady grabbed their attention again. And yep, like before,  _ Exploring The Psychic World  _ wasn’t on the tray.

Jacquelyn went to point- the lady stated, “This is what you want. It  _ is.  _ Now, take it, or we will be having problems.” 

That made Jacquelyn’s skin crawl. She nudged Esmé further behind, squeezing her knife tight. Then, waited, as the old lady continued.

“This book isn’t for either of  _ you _ , is it? Is it a gift for a friend? Then why not give the friend a bigger and better gift?” 

“We  _ are _ ,” Esmé snapped, and Jacquelyn didn’t know if she was lying or not. But the old lady advancing quietened them. 

“Take this.” 

“Thank you,” Jacquelyn said, “But-” 

“ _ Take this _ . Or I’ll offer you one of my services.” 

The look on the old lady’s face was off-putting. Much too creepy. It gave Jacquelyn the feeling those jars were full of  _ human  _ body parts. That, and that she and Esmé would soon be in jars themselves.

The shop door swung open, making the two jump. Sunlight fell through, and none other than Olivia strode in. Her head and bun high. Eyes burning bright green with a confident fire. 

“You’re in the wrong shop,” she told her girlfriends, her gaze locked on the old lady.

The old lady seemed… afraid. Eyes as wide as they could be, she choked out, “The sun.” 

“Yes, you’re right. The  _ sun _ .” 

Jacquelyn and Esmé let Olivia step in front of them, not knowing what was going on, but deciding if Olivia had the guts to get them out of here, then, well. They’d let her keep going.

So Olivia engaged in what looked like a battle of wills, hidden within a staring contest. It lasted a minute. Then the old lady backed down, muttering something about sparing them as she slunk into the darkness. Olivia took both her girlfriends’ hands and yanked them out, to the outside, to safety. 

After she slammed the door, Olivia turned to them, eyes still burning. The full force of her gaze  _ hurt _ . 

“I told you not to go in there,” she stated. 

“You said ‘I wouldn’t’-  _ yes you’re right you said don’t _ ,” Esmé quickly stammered, when Olivia’s frown lowered. 

“We’re sorry, Olivia-”  _ Wait _ . “How did you know we’d gone in there?” 

“I  _ know _ ,” was her answer, before she led them to the Chevelle. Esmé asked for further clarification, and didn’t receive it.

Olivia said nothing more as Jacquelyn drove them all back to the Penthouse. Only glared ahead, not at anything in particular. Jacquelyn was surprised when they made it home without the windscreen shattering.

Now she was almost certain this mission would be another failure.


	4. What Is Jacquelyn Gonna Do Now

In the Penthouse study she’d claimed, in almost complete darkness, Jacquelyn studied her list again. Ran her eyes over each book title, and every cross, in her and Esmé’s penmanship. Just to see if she’d skipped a book, and they actually had an option left, which they could grab in the next 24 hours.

She hadn’t missed one. She and Esmé really were out of luck this time.

The study door opened - Jacquelyn scrambled to hide the list, stuffing it into the sports bra she slept in. After a thump of a book being set on her desk, she felt Olivia wrap her arms around her shoulders, and kiss her head.

Her fingers rested on her sports bra. And the list. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah. Just…” She hadn’t put down VFD forms as a decoy. Fu-

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetie. What is it?” 

She drew in a breath. Decided to gently ask, “Has anyone told you it’s hard to buy you books?” 

“Everyone has,” Olivia chuckled. “But don’t worry about today, okay? Just  _ please  _ don’t go into The Bazaar again.” 

“Esmé lured me in there.” 

“No blame games, remember?” 

The gentle reminder made Jacquelyn nod; then she pushed out her chair to let Olivia sit on her lap. She lifted her book from the desk. It was  _ Little Women _ . 

“I still remember the day I got this,” she mused, a smile on her lips. “To think, it started my own little library… Jacquelyn, I’ve been meaning to ask: do you know if there’s a library somewhere in the Penthouse? Esmé still hasn’t shown me where it is.” 

“No idea.” 

Olivia gave a pensive  _ Hm,  _ then gently fanned the pages of  _ Little Women _ \- she gasped. “I-  _ What _ ?”

Now, Jacquelyn looked; she found Olivia had stopped at a sliver of slightly ripped pages. One page fell to Olivia’s lap. 

“When did  _ that _ happen?!” 


	5. Olivia's (Actual) Birthday

“I am  _ telling you _ , Jacquelyn,” Esmé pressed, sounding close to tears. “I didn’t rip it. I never touched it! I-” 

Jacquelyn shushed her, finishing her present wrapping in the lamp light. “Leave it for now. Just leave it. I believe you.” 

She really did believe Esmé hadn’t purposefully ripped  _ Little Women _ . Though the villainous act was well and truly up Esmé’s alley, her girlfriend didn’t think she would do that to Olivia’s books, even with her present suggestion from the other night.

Esmé pouted on the way back to their bedroom, aided by a torch as they journeyed through pre-dawn darkness. She got rid of said pout when they both kissed Olivia’s temples, stirring her awake.

Their bedside lamps lit up Olivia’s tired smile. She shushed them when they tried to speak, before taking their hands and leading them out, down one hallway, then another, and… she stopped. Looked around.

“Esmé, where’s that room again?” 

Esmé eventually found the observatory-style room, and her girlfriends managed to follow her there. Even though Esmé usually woke up first, and Olivia was an early riser, and Jacquelyn, uh, not really, none of them ever got up before dawn. This instance was all for one reason - one of the best reasons Jacquelyn could think of. For Olivia’s happiness.

She and Esmé helped Olivia open the room’s curtains, revealing even more darkness before the tall windows. Checking her watch again, she found they had less than a minute. Thus they sat on the couch, Olivia between her girlfriends, and waited. 

At 5:48, they saw the first crack of light on the horizon. Golden, bright against the black, like paint trickling from a tin and defying the laws of gravity. The light went up, and across the sky, giving Jacquelyn the feeling that, now, Olivia’s birthday had begun. 

“All I know,” Olivia told her girlfriends, gazing to the light, “Is that I was born at dawn. So it’s my birthday, now.” 

“Happy Birthday, baby.” 

“Happy Birthday, darling.” 

Her girlfriends kissed her cheeks, before Jacquelyn handed her the wrapped present. Olivia carefully tore it open, before chuckling slightly. 

“Oh,  _ Little Women _ !”

Though she was keeping her old copy, she’d agreed to let Jacquelyn and Esmé buy her a new one. This one was yellow, with the title embossed on the cover in gold foiling, which sparkled in the light of dawn. Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy made appearances down the bottom. 

“Thank you, sweethearts,” Olivia murmured. A weight lifted from Jacquelyn’s chest, easing her, like the sun’s light and warmth was seeping through her veins. 

Only now was she certain her mission was complete. 

“That’s not all, though, my darling-” this time, Esmé took Olivia’s hand, and led both her girlfriends back to a more familiar hallway, closer to the centre of the Penthouse, and the rooms they frequented. 

Esmé let Olivia push open a door; then she smiled at Olivia’s awe-filled gasp. 

Soon Jacquelyn was smiling, too. 

The room definitely wasn’t huge, since the other Volunteers loved to say Esmé couldn’t read, but each wall was lined with tall, wooden bookshelves. A newer shelf stood to the right of the doorway; to the left, around a small table, sat three armchairs. Red, yellow and blue. Then a couch, zanily patterned in all three colours to where it couldn’t be In, sat on the table’s fourth side. 

Her girlfriends heard Olivia heave a shaky breath. Then a small sob. Then she turned to her girlfriends, eyes swimming with tears, her smile wide.

“A library?”

“Darling, is it not… not obvious?” Esmé asked, concerned. 

“It’s a library, baby,” Jacquelyn chuckled- 

Olivia’s hug almost crushed her girlfriends. She grasped them tight, making them feel just how much she loved them both. Jacquelyn thought she wouldn’t mind if these moments were her last. And the longer Olivia hugged them, the closer- oh, she released- she hugged Esmé again, and Jacquelyn  _ swore  _ she almost squeezed the wind and life from her. 

“Oh, sweethearts,” Olivia gushed, releasing Esmé. (Esmé, sheet white, grabbed Jacquelyn’s arm for support.) “And you were worried about finding a present for me? When you had  _ this  _ hiding here?” 

After several deep breaths, Esmé confessed. “Oh, I wasn’t worried. Not at all.” 

That made  _ one  _ of them.

Olivia now dared to step further inside; her girlfriends admired her admiring all she saw. A crack of sunlight from the library’s only window lit up her face, her eyes, her smile that still remained.

Jacquelyn knew that smile would stay there all day.

She and Esmé made breakfast, though Olivia wanted in to help (and wouldn’t back down). They tested the library couch over breakfast - chocolate chip pancakes, the size of dinner plates down to teacup saucers, some covered in ice cream.

Then Olivia sorted out the boxes, putting her books in their brand new home. Jacquelyn and Esmé helped. Though the additional shelf was bare, Esmé had books on one wall-shelf; she said they weren’t even  _ worth  _ looking at, and that she would deal with them later. Olivia looked anyway. Jacquelyn was willing to agree with Esmé - how anyone could read about trout being Out or 1965’s biggest appliance trends baffled her. 

Hours passed. Though, slowly - this Saturday seemed to last forever. 

By about 21:15 that evening, Jacquelyn realised Esmé was asleep, on her side of the library couch. She looked over Olivia to find she’d buried her face into her undone hair, chin on her shoulder. Had Olivia noticed, Jacquelyn didn’t know; nothing, at all, had stopped her reading since dinner. 

Jacquelyn shifted closer still, to where she was certain she could hear her girlfriend’s heartbeat. Just to tease her, she kissed her cheek. Even that didn’t stop her, as she spoke lines of ancient fables like she wasn’t cradling an old, fraying book containing them. (The cloth tape was yellow.) 

When she paused momentarily, it startled Jacquelyn. 

Olivia kissed her, and nuzzled her temple and part of her face into her own hair. Underneath the old book, their fingers linked together.

“I think Esmé’s asleep,” she murmured. 

“She’s been asleep for a while. For as long as you’ve been in your own little world.” 

“You’ve been there with me.”

Jacquelyn hadn’t found listening to the fables hard - she’d been slightly preoccupied, looking to the window, where in the library’s dim lamps she could see the three’s reflection. She’d been watching Olivia read, admiring her beauty, her grace, her… just… Her.

While thinking how damn lucky she and Esmé were, having Olivia as their girlfriend. 

“I’ve been with you, yes.” 

And Jacquelyn would stay with her for an age. Until her next birthday, then the next, the next, the  _ next _ … into the 21st century, where they and Esmé could be in deep space, or an underground bunker if the ‘States kept pestering Russia-

She yawned, and heard Olivia give a gentle, even teasing  _ Hmm _ . 

“Are you ready for bed?” 

“Do you want to keep reading?” 

“I do, but, I don’t have to if-” 

“Olivia. Baby. It’s your birthday, so keep reading.” 

Jacquelyn didn’t mind at all.

Somewhat reluctantly, Olivia kept going; she eventually lost that reluctance, and fell back into the soft, gentle but precise, tone she read in. She read, and Jacquelyn listened, and Esmé slept, and as the end of Olivia’s birthday neared, life seemed perfect. Jacquelyn felt like she’d succeeded in her mission six times over.

Olivia read until Esmé’s head slipped from her shoulder, and until Jacquelyn woke in bed the next morning; the first thing she saw being Olivia’s smile, brighter than the sun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took an age to write and just short of forever to edit but it was worth it!!!!


End file.
